


Delivery

by Aithilin



Series: Fresh Start [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: For a moment, Noct hoped that Nyx would look at the pictures Prompto had brought by and something would click into place, and he would be remembered.





	Delivery

Noctis was almost glad that he wasn’t at the bar when Prompto arrived. That he wasn’t there to see his friend— his best friend— walk through those doors and make himself at home at the counter. That he wasn’t there to see Iggy feel out his own seat, tap at the bar with one hand as the rest of his senses took in the new place. That he wasn’t there to see the familiarity Nyx had with the two— the familiarity he had worked to cultivate when he was nineteen and just wanted the important people in his world to get along. 

Now it was almost an intrusion. The old world that was too painful to see, to smile at and play dumb for. 

Stepping in to the bar through the side door, Noct just wished Nyx had texted him to say Prompto and Ignis were coming. 

“Hey!” Prompto was still all smiles and warmth, and Noct couldn’t help but smile back. “You must be Noctis. Good name.”

“Yeah,” he wanted to keep smiling, to pretend that he didn’t know about that disconnect between himself and the Noct everyone else knew. It would have been easier if he had been smart enough to change his name. “Nice to see you again.”

Ignis sat ramrod stiff, every inch of him the familiar, proper gentleman that Noct had missed chasing after him in the Citadel halls. “You’re very familiar.”

“We hunted together a few times,” Prompto supplied, “In Duscae.”

Noct nodded; “Right. You know Nyx?”

He knew how they knew him. He knew how Prompto had been in awe of the Hero of the Kingsglaive for ages, until finally meeting him, until learning that Nyx liked to watch cartoons and cook and dance. He remembered his surprise at learning that Iggy had a working relationship with the Glaives as part of his duties, that he and Nyx had worked together for years. Noct remembered the way that he had worried and fretted over his two worlds colliding, how Nyx had laughed and pulled him into a hug and kiss, but was purely professional and polite for the first meeting. He remembered how long it took for that awe from Prompto to taper off to friendship, and that working relationship to ease off Iggy’s protective streak. 

“We go way back,” Nyx grinned, handing over an envelope; “If you’re going upstairs, pretty thing, can you bring this up? I’ll take care of it later.”

Noct nodded, happy for the excuse to get out of the room, to be away from his old friends. To clear his mind of the surprise. 

“Never thought you’d settle again, buddy,” he heard Prompto say as he took the old wooden steps up to the apartment. “Coincidence about the name.”

Noct was glad for the creak of the old wood beneath his boots, glad for the solid walls and floor between him and the ghosts in the bar below. He was glad that he had the excuse to shower and crash and avoid being a stranger to his own friends— to the very people he loved enough to die for. He was glad that he had taken the hunt earlier, even if it was a simple clean up job on the edge of town; it gave enough of an excuse to simply crawl into bed and pretend that there was nothing wrong.

Nyx woke him up hours later, a hand moving through the braids twisted through his hair. “They’re staying in the spare room, pretty thing. You don’t mind?”

“It’s your place,” Noct muttered sleepily, making room in the bed for Nyx to slip in behind him. He woke up a bit more when Nyx didn’t follow their usual pattern— when the man settled on the edge of the bed and took the envelope from the nightstand where Noct had dropped it before his shower. 

“You thinking of leaving? Because it’s your place too, pretty thing.”

Noct was going to reply, curl around Nyx and pull him into the bed properly, reassure himself that he wasn’t intruding on his own life. Coax for that reassurance from Nyx— from his careful touches and infectious laugh. Instead he paused as he saw the small, sad smile as Nyx pulled out a stack of photos from the little packet Prompto had brought all the way here. “What’s this?”

“Just some old pictures,” Nyx said, moving from the older ones to the newer at the bottom of the pile. “Of a friend.”

Noct knew his own face when he saw it; he remembered when those photos were taken. He hadn’t seen all of them— Prompto had taken so many, most of which Noct hadn’t been able to keep at the time. A handful where the posed, touristy shots Noct remembered best, the smiles with the group. A few of him napping in the back of the Regalia, in the heat of battle with his old friends, the candid shots of them tearing across Lucis. 

He didn’t miss the look of fondness from Nyx, the soft look he used to see all the time. That little upturn of a smile, that gentleness that Noct had thought had been beaten out of the man after ten years of night. 

“Your ‘little prince’?” Noct asked, mouth dry. He wished that Nyx would turn and see him now. Would hold up a picture and let it all click back into place. That Nyx would turn, and realise that he was the same man in those pictures that elicited such a tender look. That whatever disconnect the Astrals had set in motion, whatever magic had stopped everyone from seeing him and the Noctis of their memories as the same person would finally crumble and he could have his old life back.

Noct wished that he could have it all back. 

That he had just died on the throne that day like everyone seemed to remember. That he could still wander the whole of Eos with this freedom, but with his friends. That he didn’t need to be tied to the throne just to have his old life back.

That Nyx would look at him and remember that he was the Noctis he had shared that time with before the City, before their lives, collapsed. 

Nyx smiled at him, and Noct let himself hope. 

“Little king, really,” and the pictures were settled away, carefully tucked into their little package and set aside for later. Noct was grateful for the kiss that followed, for the attention that followed. It was almost enough to hope that the pieces had finally fell into place, that Nyx would recognise him. But to Nyx, and the rest of the world, the boy in the pictures was wholly separate. Dead in a sacrifice Noct had been too scared to fulfill to its end. Too scared to live as a king, he let himself die. And now Nyx had a new look for him, a small smile that wasn’t quite as bright, or playful. “Almost as pretty as you.”

“You miss him.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” 

Neither did Noct. 

Instead, he wrapped his arms around Nyx, pulled him closer and said what he wished he had said over a decade ago when they shared what Nyx thought was their last night together; “I love you.”

He felt the hand through his hair again, the lips on his, the softer touch. He knew that down the short hallway, Prompto and Ignis were sleeping, thinking that their friend just had a shy new lover after years without. That it was all still new for them all. 

He almost missed the small laugh from Nyx, “Love you too, pretty thing. You here to stay?”

“Always, bartender.”

It was later, when Noct was half asleep again, soothed by Nyx’s hand in his hair, that he heard his lover’s soft voice muttered against the back of his neck. “You’re so much like him.”


End file.
